iEmotions
by ohmygoshseddiex3
Summary: When Sam and Freddie get stuck working together in a psychology project, the project makes them reveal so much about themselves. Too much. Things that they didn't know about each other. Things that they didn't even know about themselves. Seddie!
1. Prologue

**iEmotions**

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

**Author's Note: Hey! I always like to introduce myself before my stories. I'm Rachel. I love Seddie and writing, so writing Seddie fanfics is just one of my favorite things. I'm an emotional person, and I know my fair share about psychology (although there probably won't be much psychology fancy talk in this, to be honest), so I think this story seems fun to do. :D Review!**

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Sixteen-year-olds sat in their sixth period psychology class on a regular Friday. It was a class of just over twenty eleventh grade students and a calm brunette teacher who seemed like she could be the age thirty-five, forty-five, or anywhere in between (the students wondered but knew they would never figure out). This was an optional class, an elective.

Two of these particular students were Sam Puckett and Freddie Benson. They decided to take this class for differnet reasons.

Although Freddie was almost certain that later in life he wanted to do something involving computers, he knew that there was an emotional, understanding part of him that needed to come out. He figured it was better to have more possibilities of options when he got into college; so when he got there, he could do anything from science to psychology.

Sam, on the other hand, didn't think too much about her future when choosing her electives. She hated to think about her future because whenever she did, the daydreams that most kids would have were nightmares to her. She wasn't the best at school, plus she knew that she didn't always seem to have the most charming personality at first, so she was afraid that in her future she would turn out like her mother. She bottled up these emotions, not realizing that when she was taking a psychology class she would end up having to think about these emotions were. Sam merely took this class because her best friend Carly told her she was going to take a psychology class, so Sam wanted to join her and make sure that they would have that class together. Of course, though, they were unlucky and unfortunately ended up in different psychology classes.

Freddie sat at his desk, listening to every word that the teacher said, while Sam stared blankly at the pen that lay on her desk.

The teacher, Mrs. Jones, was about to talk about a new project. But she noticed Sam and said, "Ms. Puckett, I think you might want to listen to this if you want to pass this class."

Sam looked at Mrs. Jones. "Nah, I don't really care," Sam said with a slight shrugs. She heard a few muffled chuckles from kids around the room, and Sam smirked.

"Well," Mrs. Jones said, keeping calm like always because she was one of those rare teachers who accepted and loved everyone, "you may actually find this project fun."

"Doubt it," Sam muttered.

Mrs. Jones didn't seem to hear her. "In this project," she explained, "you will get into groups of two. This will work out perfectly because we have exactly twenty-two students in this class. I am going to choose your partners for you. Together, the two of you will choose ten emotions. Both of you will separately write about why and how people may feel this emotion, how to deal with this emotion, and anything you may want to say about it. It would be a great idea to use your own experiences with this emotion, because everyone here has felt many emotions before, so try to use emotions that you and your partner can relate to. Then, together you will write about how the paragraphs that each partner wrote relate and differ to each other. You may want to talk about how there are many different ways to feel each emotion if you have very different writings, or how different people can still feel the same emotions if your writings are similar. Any questions?" Mrs. Jones smiled.

Instead of raising her hand, Sam turned to Freddie. All of the desks were separated, but Freddie's desk was next to hers with a space in between. "I don't get it," she said.

"Basically, you and your partner are gonna pick ten emotions. Then you write stuff about the emotion and separately your partner writes stuff about it. Then you look at each others and together both of you write about how the things you wrote are alike or different," Freddie whispered. He felt that this project could be fun, if he was with an okay partner.

"You have until Monday to finish this," Mrs. Jones said. "I'll assign you your partners." She assigned everyone partners until there were only four partner-less students left. Sam and Freddie were two of them.

"Sam, your partner will be..." Mrs Jones said, seeming to be thinking.

"Please not Freddork, please not Freddork, please not Freddork," Sam whispered to herself.

"Freddie," Mrs. Jones said, not hearing Sam whispering to herslf.

Sam groaned quite loudly. She turned to Freddie as he said sarcastically, "Sam, have I ever told you that you're _so _nice?"


	2. Happiness

**iEmotions**

**Chapter 1: Happiness**

**Author's Note: Well... this might not be the best chapter. (But I'm not sure, because I'm a huge critic of myself). It might be slow, but I'm not sure. But trust me. In the next chapters, things will get more... dramatic, fun, and interesting. Just bear with me. :p**

**P.S. I think at the end, I'm going to have a full chapter of the whole page of the project. Tell me if you think that's a good idea, haha. xP Review! :D**

**Sam's POV:**

Freddork. I couldn't believe it. I had to do a project with Freddie Benson, of every person in my psychology class. It's true, there are a lot of people who I'd hate to be partnered up with. But being partnered with Freddie was probably the worst. I had enough of the kid during iCarly. We agreed to meet at Carly's place because that's just our regular hangout place.

My mom drove me to Carly's apartment building. After giving the woman a smile and goodbye, I turned around in front of Bushwell Plaza. I sighed. I walked into the apartment building and went up the elevator to room 8-C. I walked right into the apartment without knocking.

_Wow_, I said, seeing Carly sitting on the couch, but not seeing Freddie. _I live blocks away from Carly. Freddie lives across the hall. And I'm here earlier than him. And I'm _Sam_. I never do stuff. He better reward me... by like, you know, doing all the work._

"Hey Sam," Carly said, smiling. She shut off the Girly Cow reruns that were playing on the TV in front of her. She stood up, her dark hair bouncing a bit. She fixed her red shirt. "Freddie isn't here yet."

"Noticed," I muttered. I plopped on the couch, some of my blonde curls tumbling in front of my face. I threw it behind my head.

Carly lightly sat on the couch next to me, wiping some dust off of her black jeans. "Is everything okay?"

I looked at her. "Yeah," I said, "but I just can't believe I have to do this dumb project with Freddie. I only came into the class to be with you, and now I'm stuck doing a project with him."

Carly gave me a sad smile. "Sorry."

I shrugged. "It's fine."

"But Sam," Carly said. She smiled, with a sparkle in her brown eyes that said something I couldn't put my finger on. "You know when you spend time with Freddie, you have a better time than you thought you would."

I rolled my blue eyes. "Whatever you say, Carls." I gave her a small smirk.

Suddenly, the door opened. Carly and I turned our heads to see Freddie walk in with a red-and-yellow striped polo shirt and baggy jeans.

_Stripes_, I thought. _Blech._

"Sam!" Freddie exclaimed. "You're here!" His brown eyebrows raised over his brown eyes. He seemed surprised.

"Yeah, so?" I snapped.

"Whoa there, Sam," Freddie said, backing away a bit. "_Sorry_, I was just surprised. I came late because I thought you would."

"Whatever, let's just start this thing," I said.

"I'm gonna go," Carly said, that sparkle still in her eye. "I'll watch some TV in my room." She started walking upstairs. She turned around at us. "_Have fun_," she sang.

I narrowed my eyes at her. Freddie looked at me, confused, and I turned to him and shrugged. Carly was acting strange, as if she knew something that we had no idea about.

Freddie sat on the couch next to me. I moved over a bit. He had a red spiral notebook in his hand. "Alright," he said, picking up a pen from the coffee table in front of the couch. "What emotion do you want to do first?"

"I don't know," I said, bored.

"Just name an emotion, Sam," Freddie said, being somehow patient with me like always. Even Carly wasn't this patient with me sometimes.

"Uh... happy," I said lazily.

"Alright," Freddie said, slightly smiling. "We'll do happiness." He ripped a piece of paper out of the notebook. "We can write our things first, and then type them when we're all done. You can write your thing right here. I'll go in the kitchen." He walked into the kitchen with the paper in his hand. He was taking this project seriously. He actually separated us as we did it.

I sighed, staring at the blank paper before me. _Happiness, _I thought. _Happiness. What makes me happy?_ I thought for a moment. _Eating and sleeping._ Freddie would probably get mad at me if I wrote that because I figured he would write something all deep. But I didn't care. This is psychology, and I am who I am.

I sighed, starting to write:

"**Happiness is**"

_What is happiness? _I thought. I shrugged and continued writing.

"**Happiness is when your heart fills with complete joy. When you are passionate about something, you would feel happy when you are around that thing.**"

_Cheesy, _I thought. But I kept it, and continued writing.

"**Different people become happy for different reasons. Some like reading, some like writing, some like shopping, and some like math. But I, for one, feel that relaxing brings me happiness. Food helps me relax. Any kind of sweet, sour, salty, or just delicious taste on my tongue will bring me joy. Sleeping also definitely relaxes me. After a hard day of being me, even if I had a bad day, sleeping solves anything for me. Happiness is a great emotion.**"

_Wow_, I thought. _I just made 'I like eating and sleeping' sound better. Maybe I can write. _

After we both finished, Freddie and I read each other's responses. Freddie's was:

"**Happiness is when you are doing or are with something or someone that makes you feel warm and great inside. People are happy with friends, laughing, and doing their hobbies. Hobbies vary for many different types of people, which is one of the great things in life. Some people find complete passion in working in technology, me being one of them. I also find happiness in doing what I love while helping other people. For example, I love working with technology, and I help two of my close friends with their webcast. This emotion is something that one can't live without.**"

"Nice," Freddie said, smiling. He gave me a low five, and I decided to grin and say, "You too."

We put together the conclusion of happiness:

"**We noticed that we both know that doing something one loves can make them happy. Happiness is a positive emotion that makes life much better than it would be without happiness. It is a key emotion to keep people going in life. The difference between our writings show that everyone gets happiness from different things. Every person in the world is different, so we can all find joy in everything from sleeping to technology and everything in between.**"

"So, what do you think of the project so far?" Freddie asked me, biting his bottom lip a bit as if he was hoping for me to say something.

"It's not the worst," I said, shrugging. I actually did like it. But I had one problem.

Happiness is a simple emotion. We had to write about ten different emotions. After a while, we would have to write about more intense emotions. I don't like expressing emotions. This project might... no, it will definitely make me say things that I don't want to. And Freddie will know more about me than anyone else. More than my mom. More than Carly.

And I swallowed hard when I remembered that Freddie is great at psychology. Because maybe, just maybe, Freddie would know more about me than I do.


	3. Sadness

**Chapter 3: Sadness**

**Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews, guys! And WiccansRule, a response to your review: don't worry. You'll see. ;)  
**

**Freddie's POV:**

After doing our 'happiness' part of the project, I noticed that Sam was more into it than I'd expected. When I asked her what we should do for our next part of the project, she hid her excitement well, but I could still see a sparkle in her blue eyes. I knew that she liked this, no matter how much she hated liking it.

"You pick the next emotion," Sam said, seeming to be trying to sound bored. "I picked the last one."

"Well, we did happiness last time, so how about we do sadness now?"

Sam gave an unenthusiastic shrug. "Sure." She grabbed her pad of paper, and started scribbling down words before I even had time to think. I decided to not go back into the kitchen now, as I just sat on the other end of the couch as Sam.

I looked at the blank piece of paper in front of me, barely remembering my sad times because I try to erase them from my mind. And I'm honestly a generally happy person, but you know, I'm sixteen and we all have our moments, especially as a teenager with raging hormones.

I then looked over my paper at Sam's face, as her eyes concentrated at the paper before her. I then sighed when I realized that _of course _I was sad sometimes. And Sam was the main source of my sadness. I had to write this in a subtle way so she wouldn't kill me if she found out that I was writing about her.

"**Sadness is getting hurt.**"

Well that's a nice start.

"**It happens to all of us sometimes, whether it is physically or emotionally. Emotional pain obviously makes people feel more sad inside, but the thought and looks of physical pain can make people sad.**"

I felt my heart drop just a bit as I wrote the next part.

"**But sometimes, the part that makes people the most sad is if there is a specific person who makes them sad. This hurts the person especially when although this person gets hurt so much, they care about the person who hurts them and wish that it didn't happen, but they can't help it. And that's what hurts the most.**"

I felt dumb for being too sensitive, and even dumber for making it so obvious that this was about Sam. I took a deep breath and realized I had to keep it. This was how I felt about sadness and that's what the teacher wanted. I looked over my paper again, and Sam was done. I took a deep, almost shaky breath as we switched papers and read each others. I looked at her as she read mine before I started to read hers. Her eyes were slightly wide and she read quickly. I looked down at her paper and read it:

"**Sadness is having to do things that you don't want to do. As seen before, I like to relax. That makes me happy. So needing to do unnecessary things, such as school and cleaning, makes me sad. I just want to live life and live it the way I want to live it.**"

I chuckled softly. She was trying to make this sound better than it was. After I read hers, I looked at her as she put my writing on the coffee table with an incredibly awkward look on her face.

"So, um, you wanna do the relating thing now?" she asked quietly.

"Uh, yeah, but Sam, I'm really sorry, I just..." my words faded. She seemed to be hurt by the fact that my whole sadness thing was about her.

"Why are you sorry?" she snapped, pretending to not know.

I sighed, giving her a sad smile. "Alright, well, you know why, but you can pretend you don't. So I'm sorry."

Sam gave me an "I-don't-care" shrug, but I saw a sad look in her eyes and I knew that she did.

We then put the thoughts aside and wrote together:

"**Sadness is just the opposite of happiness, as we've noticed. As we said for happiness, what makes people sad can vary from getting hurt to doing things you don't find necessary. But many humans have the same reactions to sadness. Tears, wanting attention, or wanting the complete oppsite. But overall, sadness is a negative emotion that we all know we must feel sometimes.**"

I looked at Sam. "You know," I said softly. "I know you also get sad when people hurt you."

"No one hurts me," Sam said with a slight attitude to her voice. "I don't care what people think."

"Sam, I, of all people, would know that you completely care what other people think," I told her with complete seriousness.

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

I sighed, thinking of the night on the fire escape. The kiss. Wanting to do it 'just to get it over with', and the lies behind that statement. "Just think about it," I said softly, because I knew things would get even more awkward if I mentioned it.

Sam was still frowning, and I wondered why she cared so much that it made me sad when she hurt me. It was as if she thought I liked it. And yeah, a part of me did, because Sam and I are sort of friends and that's just how our friendship works, but it's not the most fun thing being insulted and pained all the time.

I gave her the lightest touch on the shoulder as I said in almost a whisper, "Let's just take a break."


	4. Anger

**Chapter 4: Anger**

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews. :D I think I'm going to do a pattern between the POV of Sam and Freddie, if you guys like that idea. Just saying, haha. Review! (:**

**Sam's POV:**

After Freddie suggested we take a break, I went into the kitchen to grab some ham. I sat at the table and ate and didn't stop. My hunger didn't end. The whole time, I stared at Freddie, who sat blankly on the couch.

I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and I looked to see Carly coming down. She came into the kitchen. "Hey," she said quietly to me, and I gave her a small nod.

She poured herself some lemonade and sat next to me at the table. "Are you guys doing your project?" she asked.

I spoke with my mouth full: "Yeah, but we're taking a break."

Carly was the only person who could understand me when I talked with my mouth full. She gave me a disgusted look, but then she seemed to disregard it. She knew that no matter how many times she tried to teach me to be polite and ladylike, it wouldn't work. "Why?" she asked.

I shrugged, "Freddie thinks I'm upset."

And, I guess I could say I was. I'm not sure. I'm not as "in-touch" with my emotions as most people. Freddie wrote about what got him sad. And he described everything, but he could have just said: "Samantha Joy Puckett". It was that obvious that I'm the reason he gets sad.

It's not my fault, though. If I didn't fight with and insult Freddie, then what would I do? I'm not sure how I actually feel about him. It was hard for me to accept the fact that we were friends, but even that gives me another reason to hurt him. I don't want myself to get too caught up in positive feelings for him... because I have no idea where that would lead.

"Are you upset?" Carly asked, seeming extra worried today. "You seem like it."

"I'm never upset! Do you know me at all?" I asked, picking up the ham and taking a huge bite.

Carly took the ham away from me. "_Yes_, Sam, I actually know you really well. You do get upset, and you are right now. But that's okay. Just make the next emotion you write about something that you feel right now." She gave me a small smile and ran upstairs.

I walked over to Freddie. "Mad," I blurted.

Freddie's brown eyes turned to me. "Mad?" he asked, confused.

"Yeah. Let's do mad as our next one."

"Anger?" he asked slowly, his eyebrows raised.

I gave him a "duh" face, my eyebrows raised.

"Let's do it," he said. He looked at me again. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Fredweird!" I said, getting annoyed. "Let's just get this over with." I picked up the pad of paper and wrote.

Freddie glared angrily at me for a few seconds. I saw it from the corner of my eye, but I pretended not to. He finally started writing too.

"**Anger comes from all of the idiots around the world who won't leave you alone and don't get who you are. When I get angry, I take out my anger by simply going to the source. There's no need to keep your anger bottled up when you can go up to the person that got you mad and give them a punch right in the face. It is a good way to deal with anger and make sure it doesn't happen again.**"

What? I was being honest. That's what I do, and I think it's a good thing to do.

After Freddie and I switched, he actually chuckled softly as he read my thing. I read his:

"**Anger can often come from the same source that sadness comes from. Sadness can turn into anger, and vice-versa. A certain person can constantly get someone to be sad as well as angry. Feeling as if they get hurt for no reason is one reason that some people may get angry.**"

_Again? _I thought. _He really has to write about me _again_? _After reading his writing, I just glared at him and shook my head slowly.

Freddie looked at me, his eyes full of sorrow and fear as he said: "Sam, I-"

"Whatever, Freddork," I said. _I hate this project. I hate this project. I freaking hate this project. _

"Sam... I just want you to know-"

"I know. You hate me. You're gonna write about me for every bad emotion. Whatever, we've already got that covered. Come on, let's write the thing."

"Sam, _listen_ to me," Freddie said firmly. "I just wanted you to know how I feel... that sometimes you make me sad and angry... I didn't mean for you to get upset. I thought... I thought maybe you would get the message and stop."

"I kind of did stop," I said, acting like I didn't care. "I thought we were... never mind. I thought that was what our relationship was like. I didn't think you actually cared."

Freddie looked at me in the eyes. He knew what I was going to say. "I thought we were friends too, Sam. And you know what? We are. And _that's _why I wrote about you. I want us to be friends but it's hard for us to be friends when you make me feel like that. You don't listen to me when I talk out loud, so I figured, why not tell you on paper? And it worked." He gave me a small, almost sad smile because I guess he really didn't mean to hurt me.

It takes a lot to hurt me. So why would something that small affect me so much?

I let myself smile. _We're friends? _I thought. _I mean, I guess I sort of knew it, but I never said it, or expected him to. _

"Okay, Benson, let's do this." I grinned at him as we started writing our shared thing for anger.

"**Anger almost always comes from other people. Whether there is one particular person who gets you angry or many people, anger is an emotion that is hard to deal with in a way that won't hurt anyone. But sometimes all that people need is to just talk with the person or people who made them angry. The anger can then possibly go away and bring happiness and friendship.**"

I smiled at Freddie after we wrote that. I guess the best things in life, and the whole point of this project, is life experience. Mrs. Jones wants us to realize who we are as people. Freddie's outlook on himself probably hasn't changed because all we did was happiness, sadness, and anger. He thinks about emotions more than I do, so it was probably nothing new to him.

But for me, if I even felt different after doing the three simplest emotions, I was scared to see what was next. It could be anything. After this project, I would be the same person, but I would see myself as a whole new Sam.


	5. Confidence

**Chapter 5: Confidence**

**Author's Note: Heyy guys, thanks for the reviews! And to mirage888: Oh, you'll see. ;D And to EmmaLee, and anyone else who may be wondering about this too: I appreciate the constructive criticism, and thank you for telling me that this story has potential. The thing with writing stories about characters that I didn't make up is that I can't change certain things. I know that happiness, sadness, and anger are very simple emotions, and they can be broken up into hundreds of different emotions each. But Sam and Freddie have never shown any sign of knowing much about emotions on the show, and I figure that neither of them seem like the type to know much about it. And that goes along with their explanations; they don't know much. In the show, neither character is close to an expert on emotions. In fact, it seems like it'd be like the opposite. I'm not trying to educate people on emotions myself, I'm just trying to portray the way that I think Sam and Freddie would explain them. If I was doing this assignment, I would absolutely choose different emotions and write differently. But Sam and Freddie aren't like that. I will try to write in a more descriptive way, and I apologize for my great writer's block. I love writing, but it isn't always very easy for me to fit this into my tight schedule. And when I do write, I have so much on my mind that I guess I'm not writing to my full potential. And I know this is an unrealistic project for a psychology project, but when I first thought of the idea for this story, I just thought about Sam and Freddie discussing emotions, and it built from there. One thing that just made the most sense to me was a psychology project.**

**P.S. Sorry about the long author's note! :p Happy New Year! Review! :)**

**Freddie's POV:**

Sam had gotten herself comfortable on the couch, knowing that we were probably going to finish this project right then, right there. She took up more than half of the couch, lying down on it. She didn't stretch out fully, being generous by giving me the smallest spot on the couch by her feet.

It was Saturday, and we still had two days to finish the project, but I usually finish school projects in advance. Sam isn't that type; she's not the type to do projects at all, let alone finish early. But for some reason she decided to be different with this project, which made me grateful that I wouldn't have to force her to do this.

"So, pick the next thing, Freddo," Sam said absentmindedly as she aggressively fluffed the pillow that she was leaning on.

"You mean, the next emotion?" I asked, picking up the small pillow next to me and handing it to her.

Sam raised her eyebrows at me with a "no-duh" look, and I guess her patience was getting low. She grabbed the pillow from my hand and lay down in a more relaxed way, and I feared that she would fall asleep on me.

"Um, well we've pretty much covered the basics," I said, thinking hard. "I think it's time to impress the teacher with a bigger step up." I grinned at Sam, forgetting that she wouldn't care.

"As long as I know the word, then whatever," Sam said, her eyes closing slowly.

_Aw, so I can't use euphoria? _I thought sarcastically. "Well, um, I wouldn't want too much of a step up... just something a little more interesting, I guess. Like, how about... confidence?"

Sam sat up a little. She groaned. "Freddork, isn't that more of a trait than an emotion?"

I raised my eyebrows, impressed that she would even think that way. (I wouldn't be as impressed if anyone but Sam said that). "Well, yeah, but not necessarily. Some people are naturally confident, while others just have their confident moments. And don't some things just make you feel confident?" I looked at her, smiling.

Sam looked up, thinking hard. A smile formed on her face ever-so-slowly as she took a minute to think. After that minute, she looked back down, and into my eyes. "Nope," she said simply, and slouched again, putting a pillow on her lap.

"Come on, Sam," I said, sliding a piece of paper onto the pillow on her lap. "Doesn't anything make you feel like you're... in charge? Unstoppable? Like nothing, and nobody, can bring you down?"

Sam looked me straight in the eyes for a few seconds before turning her attention straight to the paper and furiously writing.

I smirked at her. I picked up a piece of paper and started writing, a lot slower than her.

"**Confidence can come easily to a person if they think the right thoughts. Any person can feel confident all the time, but this person has to first build up the ability to not listen to other people's thoughts on them, which is actually difficult to achieve. In everyone's lives, there will be things that will bring the person down. The most common source is people, but it doesn't have to be. The point is, the key to waking up and being happy about yourself is to not let other sources bring you down.**"

I felt like I was giving advice to a kid. Sam finished before me, and we quickly switched. I read hers, and it made me laugh, like always:

"**Confidence comes to you when you don't think about all the bad stuff in your life. Someone can be really ugly but the most confident kid on the block just because they think the right thoughts. They act the way they want to act, because that's one thing that a person can decide about themselves. You can't decide if you'll be tall or short, if your nose will be pointy or flat, but you can decide if you want to act quiet and reserved, or tough and confident. I, for one, recommend acting tough. This works more when you're actually strong, but if not, it could still work. Just get your act together.**"

It made me chuckle, but when I analyzed it more, something caught my eye. The words: 'acting tough'. 'Get your act together'. Was this whole thing an act?

"Why are your eyes all wide?" Sam asked me as I stared at the paper she wrote, which was still in my hand. She looked over my shoulder at the words. She turned to me. "What?" she snapped.

"Is this all an act?" I blurted to her, biting my bottom lip hard after I said that. I meant to ask her in a more gentle way, but... it was too late now. I braced myself.

Sam seemed awkwardly angry, picking up her hands as if she would hurt me, but doing nothing. She seemed really restless. She then took a deep breath, sighed, and stopped being restless. She sat regularly on the couch next to me and looked at me. "Of course not, Freddork. It's who I am. But if I ever show... weakness, I feel... weird."

"Weird?" I asked.

"Weird," Sam repeated. "I don't know how you do it, Fredweird. You practically walk around with an "I'm a weak dork" sign on your shirt. Carly is my best friend and she's barely ever even seen me sad. It's just... awkward. If I show weakness, then..." She shrugged slowly.

"Then what?" I asked softly, taking in what she was saying. I took in each word as if I was a detective, trying to find little pieces that would make the big picture make more sense.

"Then I just won't be who I want to be," she said. "Is that so bad?" she almost yelled. But it didn't seem like she was yelling at me. She was yelling at the world. Sam was judged in the world, as was I. We weren't judged in the same way, but we were judged. Whether it was at school, at home, even iCarly.

"Nope," I said simply. I looked at her deeply, taking a deep breath. "What's bad is holding in what you really feel. You can't just be confident all the time. The fact that you don't even tell _Carly _when you're upset means that you bottle stuff up."

"I don't want to tell Carly," Sam mumbled, looking down. She looked back up at me as if to see if I heard her. When she realized that I did, she sighed. "Carly lives like... the perfect life. She doesn't have to deal with parents, she's pretty, every guy likes her, and all of our iCarly fans would probably pick her as their favorite. She probably knows that everything in her life is better than mine, so what's the point of me telling her more horrible stuff about my life?"

_Whoa_, I thought. _Sam's jealous_. "Sam, I know you probably don't want to... but just know for future reference that you can always talk to me. Maybe Carly has some things better, but I know that deep down you're a really good person too."

Sam looked at me with a sad smile. "Thanks, Freddork."

We wrote our last words about confidence:

"**Both of our writings show that the real key to confidence is thinking the right thoughts. To be confident, you just need to realize the great things about your life, and who you are. Secretly think about the things that you have that others don't. And realize that you don't always need to be confident. You are a changing person in a changing world. Just remember that everything will be okay.**"

I gently put my arm around Sam's shoulder and rubbed the top of her arm with sympathy. This feeling was something that our mutual best friend, Carly, probably barely felt. The feeling of low self-esteem was normal for Sam and me.

Sam looked at me with an awkward smile. She shifted barely a centimeter closer to me, and that slight movement brought chills to me. All it really was was me with my arm around Sam. And she just moved a little bit closer to me. I was thinking about her a lot, though, that bond we have. There are things that go on in our minds that only we would understand. This was an awkward moment, though.

The weirdest part was that I kind of liked it.


	6. Jealousy

**Chapter 6: Jealousy**

**Author's Note: AAAHHH, sorry it took so long. So much is going on with real life right now :|, and whenever I've tried to write I've just had the worst writer's block. But, I reread Chapter 5 of this story and was excited to write this chapter :D. Thanks for the reviews, by the way! Oh, and for all of you guys hoping for the love emotion... just wait and see what's in store ;). I won't let you guys down! Review! :)**

**Sam's POV:**

I could almost feel the awkward in the situation we were in. I spilled my guts about my jealousy of Carly, without actually saying the word 'jealous'. I knew I'd regret that in the morning. And to try to comfort me, Freddie weirdly put his arm around me. That seriously just made things worse. I did scoot a little closer to him, but that was barely anything.

I slowly pulled myself away from his arm that was around me. Freddie gave me a small, strange grin and I rolled my eyes slightly. I grabbed a part of the couch cushion and gripped it hard with my sweaty hands, as it was so silent in the room.

"So, um... you want to do our next emotion?" Freddie asked slowly, his eyes set on mine. It was like there was some strange vibe in the room. If Carly was here, I know the whole time she'd be whispering to me: "You guys are in _love_. That's why this is so weird." I sighed at the thought. Carly easily thought that stuff because that was the position she was usually in. It was hard for her to be in the same room _without _the guy being in love with her.

"How about jealousy?" I blurted before I'd regret it. I then quickly slapped my hand against my warm forehead, not wanting to say that or write about it. If I wrote about my feelings on jealousy, it would probably make it obvious that the one person in the world I'm most jealous of is Carly Shay.

Freddie smiled at me calmly, as if he was the therapist and I was the client. "That's a great idea, Sam." He picked up his paper and frowned, probably realizing that _he _would now also have to admit what made him feel jealous.

I smirked at Freddie before picking up my paper, and then I frowned before writing quickly, in bold letters:

"**JEALOUSY= ****ALL OF THE GUYS THAT ARE IN LOVE WITH CARLY SHAY. ESPECIALLY FREDDORK BENSON.**"

I then angrily crumpled up the paper and threw it across the room, as it landed near the TV. I didn't understand why I wrote that, especially the end part. I'd always been so used to Freddie loving Carly... but at the moment, when I thought about it, it seemed to be eating me up inside.

Freddie looked up from his paper, looking confused. He looked at me as I picked up a new piece of paper, but then he noticed the one that I threw near the TV. Without words, Freddie stood up and walked over to the paper, starting to unfold it. After he picked it up, my instincts took over and I ran over and tackled him, grabbing the paper from his hands.

"HEY!" Freddie shouted, shrugging me off of him and standing up with dignity. "You threw the paper! You didn't even throw it out! I had the right to pick it up!"

"Yeah, well, not anymore," I said. With the crumpled paper in my hands, I stomped into Spencer's room. He was making some sort of weird looking sculpture. "Hey dude, do me a favor and put this paper on fire?" If anyone needed to make anything go on fire, Spencer was your guy. He made stuff go on fire by accident, so he could easily do it on purpose.

Spencer took a confused hesitation, but he shrugged it off and said, "Alright."

I gave him a nod, which in Sam language almost means "thanks." Just a few seconds after I walked back into the living room, I heard an explosion from Spencer's room. I smirked, knowing that meant that the paper was gone.

Freddie rolled his eyes. "Why couldn't I just read it?" he asked flatly, as I sat on the total opposite side of the couch as him.

"Because you wouldn't understand," I said softly. It was true, considering I barely understood. Freddie was just a guy who was in love with Carly. It's not like I like Freddie or anything. But that's what he would think if he read it. I picked up a piece of paper and took a deep breath. I took every word I said into consideration, knowing that Freddie would read this:

"**Jealousy is being forced to see someone else having the exact thing you want. This could be an object, like food. But a lot of the time, it isn't an actual object... just a feeling or idea, or a person. One common thing is watching someone you love love someone else. That's just an example, of course. Jealousy can be really hard when the person someone is jealous of doesn't even realize what they have, and they take it for granted.**"

I stared at my paper after I wrote it and tried not to look too surprised or sad, but I was. At that moment, I realized that this meant the real biggest reason that I was jealous of Carly was because Freddie loved her. And she had what I wanted; she had Freddie's love.

And that was exactly what I wanted.

"Are you okay?" Freddie asked, and I looked up into his eyes. He looked concerned. He reached a hand out and placed it on my shoulder. "You look kind of sick."

I shrugged his hand off of my shoulder. I was already confused enough; I didn't need physical contact with this guy on top of everything. "I'm fine. Just take the paper." I gave him my paper, and he gave me a sad half-smile while giving me his paper. His paper read:

"**Jealousy is when a person sees someone be who you want to be. Whether it is one thing about that person, or their appearance, personality, or everything about them, it isn't easy to be jealous. The jealous person may feel as if the other person is exactly who the jealous person wants to be. Sometimes, the only thing that keeps a jealous person away from jealousy is to find another person to show the jealous person that they are easily an amazing person too.**"

I placed the paper on my lap and gave Freddie a "what-the-heck" look. At the time, I was totally sure that he was referring to Carly and me. "You were supposed to write about _your _jealousy, Fredlumps. Not mine."

Freddie seemed to be surprised about what I wrote on my paper, but he snapped out of it when I said that. "And who said that that was about your jealousy?" he yelled, already in defense mode.

It hit me then, that it was possible that Freddie could be the jealous type too. I glanced back at the paper. "Who is this about?" I asked softly. I already told him too much. It was his turn.

Freddie eyed me nervously, and then he sighed, as if he was debating with himself whether or not to tell me in his head, and he decided yes. "To be honest, no one in particular. Just... guys. Guys that get the girl I want... and I know it's because they're just better than me... better-looking. And you know," he gave me a slight glare, "cooler than me." I guess the years of me insulting him really did hurt him.

"So, guys that get the girl you want?" I asked. "Like... Jake, Griffin, and Adam?" They were all hot guys who happened to like Carly from time to time. Who could blame them?

"Not just them, Sam," Freddie said in an almost angry way. He glared at me until I looked him straight into the eyes. He continued, "You know, Carly isn't the only girl I've liked in the past few years."

"No, duh. You've had girlfriends and dates... and kisses with my twin sister, and... other people," I said awkwardly, remembering that I _was _his first kiss, and he was mine. "But, I know Carly's been your main girl since the beginning of middle school or earlier."

"Sam, you have no idea," Freddie said, with a small smile on his face. "You're not inside of me. You have no idea if I like Carly, or if maybe, I'm totally in love with another girl."

I widened my eyes and looked away quickly. The way he said that, looking deeply into my eyes, killed me. It was like he was trying to play with my heart. "Um, yeah, I guess I don't know for sure," I mumbled, wanting to change the subject.

"So how about your writing, huh?" Freddie said, giving me a nudge with his elbow and a nice smile. He quoted from my writing, using a mocking tone of voice: "'One common thing is watching someone you love love someone else. That's just an example, of course.'"

"Well it's true!" I exclaimed, now ready to defend myself. "It's an example! And yeah, sometimes it's happened with me and Carly... Like okay, I'll admit it. I was jealous when Jake liked her, when Shane liked her, and when Jonah liked her." Admitting that was really easy, considering I could've admitted something _way _bigger. Another reason I was really jealous of Carly: Freddie Benson. But there was _no _way I would ever admit that.

Freddie's smile faded a bit, and he looked a bit disappointed, like he was expecting more.

_Yeah, right, Freddork, _I thought. _You thought I'd say I'm jealous of you liking her? There's no way. That's not even true! I mean, at least I don't think it is... oh, shut up Sam. _

"Freddie," I said softly, trying to change the subject back, "you don't need to be jealous of other guys. You know, a lot of girls like you just the way you are. Not every girl wants an arrogant guy, you know? Not every girl wants someone dumb... It all depends on the values of the girl, okay? You have _no idea _what girl might be in love with you. You've just gotta open your eyes more." I couldn't believe I said that all. It all just sort of flowed out... and I knew if Carly was here, she'd be squealing with all of the "hints that Freddie and I like each other".

Freddie's smiled reappeared. That seemed to be exactly what he wanted to hear at the moment. He sat up a bit more, and he smiled as I did the same, so now we were a little closer, because before we were both sort of just lying on either end of the couch. "Thanks, Sam. That was weirdly nice of you to say."

I rolled my eyes. "No problem, Fredweirdo."

We finally wrote the next part of our project:

"**'The grass is always greener on the other side.' That English Proverb is what describes both of our views on jealousy. You always want what the other person has... but really, the other person may want what you have, too. People will always want what they can't have, and what others can have. People just need to keep their heads high and see how lucky they really are.**"

We both showed some of our weaknesses that were really hard to show. And this was the first time since that night on the fire escape that I felt really, really close to Freddie Benson.


	7. Disgust

**Chapter 7: Disgust**

**Author's Note: Wow, I'm so deeply sorry you guys. I hope you guys are still with me here and haven't given up on this story... I'm truly sorry that it's taken me over a month to update. To be completely honest, I have been so stressed and usually the only times I have free time, I'm too tired to do anything. But, I'm really in the mood to write, and I'm excited to write this. Thanks for your reviews! Also, Colizuma brought up a great point. Of course I need to add the part where Freddie and Sam write what is similar between their writings, because that's the whole reason they're doing the project together... if they didn't add that, then this would be an individual project. So, I added that part to Chapters 5 and 6 if you want to go back and read that part. Sorry for the long, annoying Author's Note again... Get to reading! :D**

**Freddie's POV:**

There was such a weird, awkward vibe in the room between Sam and me. I was glad that we were talking, and I was glad that she was into the project, and I was glad that she was honest; but this wasn't... us.

After an awkward minute of silence, which felt more like an hour, I cut in to the hushed air and spoke. "So... how about for our next emotion, we do something less... heavy? We've said a lot in the past two emotions, and maybe this next one should be less... personal."

Sam gave me a weird look, with her big blue-green eyes squinting a bit. "What do you have in mind?" she asked with her suual Sam voice, so I wasn't sure if she liked the idea or not.

I shrugged a bit. "I don't know... something more general... how about disgust?" I turned and looked her in the eyes. I actually wanted to know what was disgusting to Sam. A lot of the stuff that _she _did was disgusting, so I figured that her idea of disgust would be very interesting.

"How is that not personal?" she asked, sneering a bit with a slightly confused look on her face.

Her response made me nervous. How would disgust be at all personal? Was there something I was missing? I gave her a confused look back, my eyebrows lowering. "How would that be _personal_? Like, just talk about what makes you grossed out... like for example... licking my Pear Phone, eating 'Chunk Meat', drinking pickle juice?"

Sam rolled her eyes, realizing that all of my examples were things that she'd done. "Oh, so stuff that makes you want to puke? Okay, sure. You write about that kind of stuff. But I'm gonna write about what _really _disgusts me."

I looked at her with wide eyes. "Uh, Sam, should I be scared?" I shifted a bit away from her, grabbing a paper from the table to start writing.

Sam gave me her usual smirk and raised eyebrows. She didn't answer that question, but her facial expression said enough: _Yes_.

I sighed, hoping that my idea of a light emotion would still work. I thought Sam would want to take a break from this stuff too. I figured she would just write about how the thing that disgusts her is nice people. I went for that conclusion, and then I wrote down my definition of disgust:

"**Disgust is the feeling one may have when something simply disgusts them.**"

I looked at what I wrote and narrowed my eyebrows. _Thanks for stating the obvious, Freddie, _I thought. I shrugged it off and kept that first sentence. I wrote on:

"**Disgust links to a physical feeling. When one is disgusted, they may feel sick to their stomach. One may feel disgusted and sick when they see someone else doing something that may make the other person actually get sick. For example, the person that is doing something disgusting may eat or touch something dirty.**"

I shrugged at my writing after I finished. It was true; that was what disgust was to me. But I decided that I actually did prefer the deeper stuff. Disgust is disgust. It is an emotion. But I liked emotions that made us dig deep; I liked emotions that helped me get to know Sam better, and let her understand me more.

Sam and I switched our papers. I finally understood what Sam wrote about. I was surprised... Sam found a way to make this emotion more personal than I intended.

"**Disgust is the feeling of seeing or hearing about something you really wish you didn't know about. To be more specific, some people or actions can just be disgusting. For a very random example, a person might love another person. The person who is being loved doesn't love the person who loves him or her back. But then, when the person that loves the other person does something good for the person he or she loves, the person being loved suddenly 'loves' the other person back. Like yeah, right.**"

I laughed a bit at the end, because sometimes it seemed like Sam forgot we were doing a project for school. It seemed like she thought she was having a casual conversation with a friend. After reading over her passage a few times, I realized that it was exactly identical to the situation I had when I saved Carly's life. I loved her. She didn't love me. I saved her life. She thought she loved me, but chances are she really didn't.

And that situation disgusted Sam.

It was true; Sam was the reason that I ended whatever I had with Carly that day. Was it because she was just disgusted by the situation?

Was she disgusted from seeing Carly and me together?

I looked up from the paper, and Sam glanced over at me, and then looked away. It was as if she didn't expect me to catch on about what she wrote was about. I smirked at her. She noticed, and gave me a glare back. "What?" she snapped.

I held the paper in my hand, and I glanced at it then back at Sam. "The 'example' you wrote seems quite similar to a situation I was in one time," I said matter-of-factly. "A situation that _you _happened to sort of be part of."

Sam widened her eyes, but then she rolled them in her regular way. She muttered, "Coincidence." It was as if she was even trying to convince herself of this.

"Sam," I said softly, deciding to go back to the gentle Freddie again. "Were you really disgusted by Carly thinking she fell in love with me?"

"No," Sam mumbled.

I folded my hands in my lap and looked down, staring at my hands. I didn't know what to say. This day, I was seeing a side of Sam that I'd never seen before. It confused me. Girls confuse me. Sam confuses me.

I felt the couch quickly move, and I quickly looked back up at Sam. She had turned her body toward me, still sitting on the couch. One of her legs hung off of the couch, while she sat on the other leg. "No," she repeated in a more regular voice for Sam. "I wasn't disgusted by _that_. I was disgusted that you fell for it."

I narrowed my eyebrows, confused yet again. "I fell for what, exactly?" I asked, my hands still folded in my lap as I turned my body towards her as well.

Sam sighed with a slight groan, as if it was obvious. "That you fell for her act!" she exclaimed angrily. "Like, she obviously didn't love you... And maybe she thought she did love you, but I'm surprised that _I _had to be the smart one and make you realize that it wasn't real. None of it was real."

I looked at Sam, and I analyzed her face. She seemed almost distraught. She was caught up in her vexation and she said so much, which surprised me like always. Her colorful eyes squinted a bit, and I thought I could even almost see a slight hint of a tear hidden somewhere in the whiteness of her eye. Her makeupless, pink lips were curved down a bit. Her golden hair hung a bit over one eye, and it was messy and slightly frizzy. Sam was so different from Carly, even in appearance. But, especially comparing Carly to Sam, Sam seemed so... beautiful. I never thought I'd admit that to myself, let alone think it at all. But it was true.

"You know what?" I whispered after a few seconds of silence.

"What?" she murmured, now looking down, with her long eyelashes now pointing down.

"You're right," I said softly, taking a deep breath. Sam's eyes shot back open quickly, as if she was surprised. "You're right," I repeated. "None of it was real. None of it at all... even my feelings for Carly."

Sam seemed puzzled. "But, wait... don't you still like her?" she asked. I noticed that she'd grabbed the couch cushion tightly in her clenched fists.

I closed my eyes lightly, then I re-opened them. "I don't think so," I confessed. "I admit, I think I had a crush on her. But I know for sure that I never actually 'loved' her like I said I did. She just kind of took advantage of me... and _not _in a good way."

Sam rolled her eyes, but then I saw a smile appear on her face as she looked back down at the papers. "I knew it all along," she said, taking a blank piece of paper from the table for us to write our conclusion of 'disgust' on.

_Sometimes, I think you know me better than anyone else in the world. _I was debating whether or not, to say it aloud, but I decided against. But it was absolutely true. Some jokes, some actions, some conversations, some feelings, some experiences... sometimes I thought the only person who understood was Sam Puckett. Thinking about it generally, it wouldn't make sense. But when I really thought about Sam, she just might have understood me more than anyone else in the world.

But, our views on 'disgust' were very different. Somehow we came up with a way to relate the two:

"**Feeling disgust gives a person an uncomfortable feeling in their stomach. It may make them feel nauseous, give them unwanted butterflies, or just be simply pained. Disgust can come from one seeing something that is gross to them in a gruesome way; but it can also be gross to them in an emotional way, such as by someone's actions. Disgust can be avoided by trying to avoid these situations, but unfortunately most of these situations are hard to avoid.**"

I looked at our finished work for disgust. This emotion, which was supposed to be light and easy, turned out to teach me so much more about Sam, and about myself.

And of course, it taught me so much about who Sam and me were... _together_.


End file.
